


Intimate Dining

by sanguisuga



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: But He Is Delighted, Coming In Pants, Greg Is Not Surprised, M/M, Mycroft Is A Bit Of A Tart, Semi-Public Sex, do not copy to another site, pre-Mystrade, surprise dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29443578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: Greg gets kidnapped. Well, sorta. Turns out, he doesn't mind so much this time.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 13
Kudos: 144
Collections: Soft Smut Sunday





	Intimate Dining

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always super appreciated!
> 
> Kisses to all my lovelies... ~xo~

Greg was unceremoniously whisked away from his office at half-seven. It was a Friday night, and although the current case hadn't been particularly difficult to crack, it had resulted in a tedious overload of paperwork. So when a certain behemoth of a chauffeur had suddenly appeared at his door, Greg had allowed himself to be escorted out without too much fuss.

The suit carrier that was waiting for him in the back of the town car was an interesting addition, however. Greg turned his most sceptical eyebrow on the driver, but beyond a sly smirk and an emphatic gesture, he got no answers. Sighing deeply, he slipped out of his own suit jacket before sliding into the back. He reached for the zipper on the carrier as the door clicked shut behind him. 

The suit that was revealed was of course well above his pay grade, and Greg frowned as he ran a hand over the fine fabric. Cobalt blue, and clearly more close-fitting than he usually preferred. Greg took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head. Just what was the flashy bastard up to now?

Not that it mattered. Greg would play along, just as he always did. Chances were that it was just a ploy in one of Mr. British Government's overreaching schemes, and the most that Greg would get out of it would be indifferent gratitude. At least, that's all he was hoping for, seeing as how the last time had left him with a black eye and a cracked rib, not to mention a rather bruised ego. 

Greg swiftly worked to get his kit off in the awkward space, not all surprised to find a new pair of shoes tucked away as well as fresh undergarments and a toiletry bag, complete with wet wipes. Good Lord.

He freshened himself up as thoroughly as possible, taking a perverse sort of pleasure in wiggling his bare behind on the fine leather seats before pulling on a snug pair of black boxer briefs. He didn't allow himself to think about how a certain someone might know all of his assorted sizes. For all Greg knew, Holmes had probably sent someone into his flat to stealthily obtain his measurements while he was sleeping. 

He finished lacing his shoes as the car came to a stop, dutifully waiting for the door to open before stepping out. He left his own clothes in a rumpled heap in the corner with hardly a backward glance. Greg adjusted his cuffs as he endured a swift once-over by the driver, shimmying his hips slightly to get the trousers settled. He silently lifted his chin as meaty fingers subtly tweaked the knot in his tie. 

The smirk became a little more pronounced as Greg sighed. "I imagine you know what this is all about?"

"Indeed I do, sir."

"Ye gods, no. Greg, please."

The driver hesitated before inclining his head slightly. "George."

"Pleasure." George snorted at Greg's dry tone. "I don't suppose you can share the subterfuge with me?" Greg watched as several expressions crossed George's face in swift succession before he shook his head. "I get it. You know what's going on, but you're not _supposed_ to know, and if you tell me, then His Highness in there will know that you told me and that'd be your head on a plate."

George blinked in surprise and tipped his chin down in a brief nod. "Thank you for your understanding."

Greg laughed aloud, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all. "Fine. Will you be here to take me home after this farce or should I make sure to have some cab fare on me?"

"I will be wherever Mr. Holmes requires me to be."

Greg muttered, "I hope he pays you well," as he strode to the door of the restaurant. He took a moment to breathe before stepping in, striving to look as though he was expected.

The maître d' clearly wasn't impressed with Greg's overall appearance, but at least the suit seemed to pass muster. As soon as the name "Holmes" passed his lips, however, the attendant instantly transformed into charm personified. He led Greg to the back of the restaurant, to a small semicircular booth partially obscured by a dark blue velvet curtain.

Mycroft Holmes looked up as Greg approached, his customary blank expression briefly shifting into something - proprietary - or at least fairly appreciative. Whatever it was, it made his eyes gleam, and Greg paused for a moment, holding his arms out as if for inspection.

With his face once more composed into its standard mask of neutrality, Mycroft waved Greg into the booth and nodded curtly at the server who had approached silently. With barely a whisper of acknowledgement, the waiter hurried off, no doubt to arrange their meal. 

Greg looked around briefly. "This is cosy." He wondered if that was a blush on Mycroft's cheeks, but the lighting was dim enough that he couldn't be certain. Greg absentmindedly fiddled with his cutlery as he leant in, lowering his voice. "So what is it this time? Another diplomat selling state secrets? If so, I hope they aren't trained like the last one was. Took me a while to recover from that."

Mycroft grimaced. "Please don't remind me, Detective Inspector. That was a grievous oversight on my part and I profoundly regret bringing you in to assist on that occasion."

Greg pursed his lips, hearing censure in Mycroft's voice, although he couldn't tell whether it was directed at him or at the speaker himself. "Hey, now. I got him, didn't I?"

They paused as the waiter arrived with wine and starter salads, waiting for Mycroft's nod of approval before vanishing again. Greg idly spun the stem of the wineglass in his fingers, feeling Mycroft's eyes on him as he took a sip and hummed appreciatively.

Mycroft's gaze dropped to his salad as he sighed. "Yes, you did. You brought that snake down very ably and I will be forever grateful." He stabbed at a cherry tomato, contemplating it almost morosely. "You were also injured in your efforts, and I don't think I can ever forgive myself for putting you in danger like that. It will never happen again."

Greg blinked, nearly choking on a stray piece of watercress as he inhaled sharply. "Then what am I here for?" He set his fork down and took a sip of water, clearing his throat. "Is this some kind of apology? All that happened well over a year ago, Holmes. Other than a floral arrangement that was sent to my hospital room - which was no doubt ordered by that lovely assistant of yours - you haven't said a damn thing about it. So why now?"

Mycroft set down his salad fork and pushed his plate away. He folded his hands in front of him, neatly avoiding Greg's curious stare. "That was perhaps a partial impetus for the meal, yes, but I also rather wanted to, well..." He sighed. "To treat you to dinner."

Greg gaped for a moment before finding his voice. "You _ask_ people to dinner, Holmes." He waved his fingers around erratically, not missing the way Mycroft's eyes tracked the motion. "You don't send giant thugs to kidnap them from work and loan them entire outfits just so the swank eatery doesn't toss them out on their ear when they are unceremoniously dumped on their doorstep!"

Mycroft sighed, rolling his eyes expressively. "The suit is a gift, Detective Inspector. Surely you didn't think that I had it tailored to your specifications just to take it back at the end of the evening."

Greg once again waved his hands as he struggled to find his voice. His efforts ceased as Mycroft suddenly smirked mischievously. "And I dare not contemplate what George might do if he heard you refer to him as a 'giant thug'."

"He'd laugh his arse off. We've come to an understanding, me n' him."

One elegant eyebrow quirked up. "Have you, now?"

Greg hummed an affirmative around a mouthful of wine. He spread his hands in an expansive gesture. "So?"

Mycroft's brows drew together in consternation for a moment and then abruptly cleared in understanding. His grey eyes skittered over Greg's face and he smiled ever so slightly. "Detective Inspector. Would you care to join me for dinner?"

Greg grinned easily and waited for the salad plates to be cleared and wine glasses to be refilled before he answered. "Yes, I would. Provided you drop the D.I. nonsense." He waved one hand over the table. "This one doesn't count, by the way. You owe me a proper dinner, now that I've actually been invited." He winked, delighting in how Mycroft's cheeks flooded with colour. "Now, was that really so hard, Mycroft?" He put a clear emphasis on his companion's name, liking how it felt on his tongue.

"Positively excruciating." Mycroft's nose wrinkled slightly as a modest plate of chicken and vegetables was set down in front of him. 

Greg hummed in delight as a perfect filet mignon with a green peppercorn demi-glace slid into place, his fingers already creeping toward his knife. "Why?"

Mycroft hummed distractedly, popping a bit of chicken in his mouth. He chewed with deliberation and then shrugged idly. "People don't often choose to willingly spend time with me."

Greg stifled his groan of appreciation at the first taste of his steak, shaking his head. "Maybe it has something to do with you not giving them the option in the first place." He eagerly stuffed some more meat in his mouth and pointed his fork in Mycroft's direction as he chewed. "Or maybe it's because you have a complete blind spot in regards to your own appeal."

Mycroft recoiled slightly. "Appeal? In what universe would someone find this appealing?"

Greg very carefully laid down his knife so that it didn't clatter to the table in his shock, turning to his dining companion. "This universe, you daft sod." He blinked slowly as Mycroft stared at him, his face a perfect study in utter confusion. "Powerful. Elegant. Erudite. Sassy as hell, cute as a button and sporting what I am quite sure is a fantastic bottom that I could never get a glimpse of, no matter how hard I tried." Greg reached out, the tip of his forefinger barely brushing against Mycroft's pinky. "I've been drooling after you since we first met." He smiled as Mycroft's mouth dropped open, the tips of his ears gone bright red. "You colossal idiot."

Greg waited patiently as Mycroft processed this new information, his grey eyes fixed on the fingers that were now tracing patterns over the back of his hand. Feeling bold, Greg outlined a heart, watching with satisfaction as the red went from ears to cheeks in a flash. 

Mycroft stammered quietly. "I had no idea."

"Obviously." Greg smirked. "Not as omniscient as you claim to be, hm?" He dared to fold his fingers around Mycroft's hand, squeezing gently. "I'm going to make myself very clear from here on in. No more misunderstandings, yeah?" He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I like you. I am attracted to you. I would like to have more dinners with you and spend more time together. I would like to do other - activities - with you." Greg dropped a wink as Mycroft's fingers spasmed in his grip. He leant closer and dropped his voice. "Couple activities, if you get me. Pleasantly exhausting and hopefully rather filthy activities." He eased back a little, loosening his grip. "When you're ready for that, of course."

"Fuck." 

Greg snorted in surprise, not even sure that he had heard correctly, but then his hand was being lifted to Mycroft's mouth, and sharp white teeth were nibbling gently at his knuckles as Mycroft muttered it again.

"Fuck." Lips replaced teeth as Mycroft peppered soft kisses over the back of Greg's hand, as he took it in both of his and avidly studied each finger. "Stupid, so stupid how could I have not known, such an obtuse idiot, could've had you for _years_ by now, could've kept you safe and healthy and _mine_ oh God..."

"Mycroft?"

Mycroft turned Greg's hand over, gently tracing the lines of his palm. He shivered minutely, a pleasant tingle zinging up his spine and making his hair stand on end.

"These hands of yours... Big and broad and strong and these deliciously _thick_ fingers, my God. Do you know how often I thought of them touching me?" Mycroft lifted his eyes to Greg's face and smiled, slow and sharp and so very sly. "Obviously not, but oh. Oh, Greg. The number of times I've come imagining these hands on me, these fingers... Inside me. _Hnghk_."

Greg swallowed. "I guess that means you're fully on board with my plans, then."

 _"Hrmph."_ Greg bit his lip as Mycroft mouthed at the tips of his fingers, flickering his tongue along the edges of his fingernails.

"Uh." He squirmed in his seat, his already snug trousers becoming even more so. "Do you really think that this is the time?" He glanced around, relieved to find that they were mostly being ignored. "Or the place?"

Mycroft, grey eyes sparkling, reached out a hand and tugged decisively on the thick rope holding the velvet curtain up. With a soft flump, it closed around them, completely obscuring the view of the restaurant.

"Oh," Greg breathed out. "Well, that's all right, then." He deftly slipped two fingers into Mycroft's mouth, ignoring his low moan as he drew him closer. "You're a dirty little bastard, aren't you?" He smeared Mycroft's saliva over his cheek as he gripped his jaw, his left hand reaching under the table. Greg grinned fiercely as he groped at Mycroft's crotch, feeling his trapped cock throb against his palm. 

Putting his mouth to Mycroft's ear, he began to rub and squeeze. "You seem to have a thing for getting off in public and I am _so_ going to use that to my full advantage. You are going to come in your pants like the filthy little pervert that you are, and because I have at least a modicum of self-control and decency, not to mention being an _officer of the fucking law_ , I will wait to get you behind closed doors before buggering you silly." Greg licked at Mycroft's earlobe, his brain swimming with the soft grunting noises he was making, the short aborted thrusts of his hips against Greg's hand. "And because I am doing this for you, because I am giving you what you want, what you so desperately need, you are going to let me do absolutely _anything_ to you to you that I want to."

Mycroft nodded jerkily, his breath whining out of his throat with a harried, "Yes, yesyesyes," as he clutched at Greg's arms, and with one last squeeze and tug, he came nearly soundlessly, quivering in Greg's grip. 

Greg slowly eased up on the pressure of his hand as Mycroft caught his breath, his fingers still holding tight to Greg's shoulder and bicep. Greg let go of Mycroft's jaw, gently running his fingers along and down his neck. Mycroft pulled away, his eyes bright and cheeks spotty with sated arousal. 

He shakily reached out to trail his fingers down Greg's shirt buttons, pausing somewhere just above his belt buckle. Mycroft licked his lips as he greedily eyed the considerable bulge that was being unfairly restricted just below. 

"Wouldn't you like for me to relieve your tension?" He leant back as Greg sucked in a breath, sizing up the space they were in. "I'm fairly certain I could fit under the table."

Greg choked out a laugh. "Wouldn't give me the room to really use that pretty mouth of yours properly, you little tart." He shook his head decisively. "Closed doors, Mycroft. Tonight, I'm going to fuck you." He reached out and pulled Mycroft in by his tie. "I gave you a treat, and now I get anything I want, remember?"

Mycroft's eyes crossed briefly before they fluttered closed. "Oh yes, Greg. _Anything_." 

Greg hummed as he put their mouths together, and Mycroft eagerly opened up to him, moving against him like he wanted to be devoured. When they pulled away for air, Greg murmured, "Good boy," against Mycroft's lips and he could swear he felt the other man melt into him for just a moment. "To yours, then."

Mycroft nodded and pulled away reluctantly, attempting to put himself back together before sliding out of the booth. He pushed the curtain aside and gallantly held it open as Greg stood, taking a moment to button his jacket and tug it down strategically.

With his shoulders held straight and high but with his gait a trifle wobbly, Mycroft led the way to the door, pausing momentarily as their erstwhile waiter handed him a takeaway bag. Greg took it from him as they stepped outside, not surprised to see the ubiquitous car and its driver waiting for them at the kerb.

He peeked inside the bag, licking his lips at the crème brûlée tucked away in a clear plastic container, sitting on top of what was most likely the remains of their dinner. Approaching the back door of the car and glancing in, he noted that his discarded clothing had been neatly tucked away in the suit carrier. 

Greg waited until Mycroft was settled before starting to slide in next to him. He paused at the oh so quiet, "Well done," from behind him. 

Glancing back, he grinned wickedly at George's twinkling eyes. "Take us home, Jeeves." Muted laughter echoed as the door clicked shut behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd or brit-picked. Characters not mine, but the situation definitely is!
> 
> If you'd like to get notifications and miscellany from tumblr, I'm at 'bitemebat.tumblr.com'. My activity there has slowed considerably since the Great Purge, but I also set up another tumblr just for notifications and other writerly stuff at 'sanguisugaao3.tumblr.com'.
> 
> I seem to be mostly active on twitter now, although the system confuses me and I really don't post much. But still, if you'd like to follow, I'm @sanguisugaao3 there!
> 
> (I'm also over on Pillowfort.io if anyone out there is giving them a shot - as 'sanguisuga'. Same handle on Dreamwidth, but I must confess that I don't do much on either site.)


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